Pathetic Hero
by onlyyoujarly
Summary: No matter which way he spinned it, this was, by far, his wife's worst betrayal. And he isn't sure he can bounce back, but then Sam McCall, once again, steps in. Maybe this time, they can get it right. LuSam
1. Chapter 1

**A/N- This story is complete, but depending on whether anyone is interested or not, I will upload the rest of it. I'm not going to blackmail you guys, and say I have to have at least five reviews. That's not fair, especially if I only have, let's say, three readers. That's no reason to deny them. So as long as you make your prescence known, in some way, I will upload the secound part. **

**Greg is Lucky. Of course. :) Keg is LuSam. **

The shot glass was clenched tightly in his hand, nearly turning his knuckles white. The image would forever be imbedded in his mind, whether it be drunk or sober. There wasn't any amount of drugs or alcohol that could erase the guilty eyes of his 'soul mate'. His laughter was dry and emotionless

"Spencer, you're going insane," he accused himself, "You should have known. If not Jason, then of course Nikolas. My dear ol' brother Nikolas."

Another laugh erupted from him, demanding his glass to refilled. Coleman smirked at him, and Lucky was thankful for Ethan not bartending tonight.

His 'brother' would have probably questioned him persistently. Like he cared anyway. Brothers. Right. Who needed mobsters when you could have a brother screw your fiancé? Nikolas and Liz. His Liz, Emily's Nikolas.

A bile of disgust built up in the back of his throat. How could Liz do that to her supposed best friend, deceased friend at that? How could the memory of Emily's cold, lifeless body not haunt Nikolas every night? He smiled to himself. How could have let himself be played for a fool again?

He was a Spencer for god sake. A pathetic one at that. He brought the glass up to reunite with his lips, anticipating the numbness that would settle over him after a few more shots. Just as the coldness of the glass met his anxious lips, it was harshly ripped from his hands.

His eyes glared up at the intruder, the all too familiar mocha eyes searing them with their disappointment. "Are you here to join the club? The lets fuck Lucky's closest friend and worst enemy club?"

She shook her head, placing the alcohol on the counter. "Lucky, come one. Let's get you out of here."

He laughed, the bitter sound having become familiar to his ears. Sam winced at the pure pathetic ness of it.

"No," He slurred, "This is where I belong. Lucky Spencer the alcoholic druggie."

"Lucky," her voice was low but strangely intimidating, "Stop being pathetic. You know you are so much more than that."

"Nope," he shook his vigorously, "I am a drunken fool. Everyone in Port Charles knows it."

She sighed. "Lucky, the freaks in this practically inbreed town know nothing. Everyone here is focused on making babies. It's a damn contest about how many whores mobsters can make impregnate."

Lucky laughed at that, a drunken genuine laugh, but genuine nonetheless. Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, and he tensed. She was another Jason worshipper. They were back together. He threatened to kill her, and she still took the asshole back. His hands balled into fists, roughly shoving her hand from his shoulder.

He wasn't sure what disgusted him more, Jason threatening to kill the only woman who hadn't let Lucky down, or the woman who never let him down, hurting him by taking the shameless killer back. His hands relaxed, his clouded mind finally grasping some sort of reality. She hadn't known. And he always wondered if she had, if she would have chosen Jason.

"It doesn't matter," he whispered, "I know what I am Sam. Don't lie to me."

This time when her tiny hand landed on his shoulder, he allowed his body to relax under the warmth of her touch. A silent sob shook his torso, silently cursing himself for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. Especially in front of Sam, the woman who had one time claimed he was her hero.

"Yeah, Lucky it does matter," she protested softly, "You are a wonderful man. You are a wonderful father. What would ever make you feel otherwise?"

His body tensed at her question, forcing himself to swivel the stool towards her.

"My brother fucked my fiancé. My fiancé fucked my brother. No matter how I word it, it hurts just the same.

There was no stopping the uncontrollable sobs as they racked his muscular form. He knew the few occupants left at Jakes were staring, but it couldn't stop the muted cries emitting from him Sam's fingers brushed most of them away, before pulling him to his feet, and wrapping him securely in her small embrace.

"Lucky, lets get you out of here."

Abruptly, he pulled away, his sobs ceasing. "No, I can't go home. It isn't mine anymore."

His heart hammered in his chest, tears welling up pitifully in his eyes again. He was reluctant to meet her gaze, her small hand pulling insistently at his chin. His stomach was in knots as he prepared himself to see pity staring back at him. Instead, there was nothing but love.

He wanted nothing more than to just melt into her, allow her to heal the wounds that had been ripped back open, like she did nearly two years ago. Her hands grabbed his waist, urging him to walk with her.

"Come on. You can crash at my place," she insisted, "and seeing as though I could never allow you to go the torture of living with Liz, I'm assuming we should stop by the house tomorrow to get a few of your things. It would be inhuman of me to subject you to such an environment."

He smiled slightly, "Yeah…"

"And Lucky, Liz is a stupid whore. She doesn't realize what she's loosing. Trust me, one day she will. I assure you, when that day comes you'll be happily married with lots of babies."

"You believe that?" He snorted, trying his best to aid Sam in their trip to her car.

She peered up at him, a strained smile on her lips, as she tried to carry his weight along with her own, and replied, "yeah. Lucky. I do."


	2. Chapter 2

It felt weird stepping into Sam's apartment for the first time since their break up. An image of them laying together on the very couch she had just flopped onto entered his mind. She hadn't made many changes. Except having replaced the pictures of them together with photos of her and the mobster.

It suddenly occurred to his drunken mind that Sam was still with Jason. Grunting to himself, he reached for his leather jacket, his hands curling around the material. Startled by his sudden movement, she stood from the sofa.

"Lucky…" her voice was soft and her touch gentle. Lucky clenched his eyes as memories tore through his mind. He jerked away from her touch, harsher than he had intended.

His head began throbbing. In an attempt to sooth his oncoming headache, he massaged his temples with his middle and index fingers. Unexpectedly, Sam's smaller ones removed his hands, and replaced them with her own.

Unwillingly, he felt himself relax. It only lasted a few moments before she took her touch from him, and he once again returned to the cruel reality of what his life had become. Why was it he was always the one who ended up hurt? Liz always seemed to move on easy. Most of the time she didn't even wait for the cue to move on, she just jumped into bed with the man she loved. A man that never seemed to be him.

Sam. That was an entirely different situation, but it still hurt just as bad, if not worse. She had gone running back to Jason the moment the opportunity had presented itself. Sometimes he wondered if she ever really loved him, or if it really was just about sex and revenge.

Her slender fingers lightly touched his bottom lip, and he found himself closing his eyes reluctantly. He felt her shift herself, so her body was pressed to his, her lips barely brushing his own.

He felt her go rigid in his arms, as she suddenly pulled away, taking the security of her embrace with her.

He looked around the room, trying to find at least one thing that didn't remind him of what they used to be, but found none. He settled for staring at her lips, which was probably the worst choice overall. Her lips parted, a tiny droplet landing on her top lip, which her tongue licked away.

He met her eyes, the brown orbs flooded with tears. Her throat convulsed, before she took a few tentative steps towards him.

"Lucky…" her voice was low, but sweet just the same.

Thoughtlessly, he wrapped his arms securely around her waist and pulled her into a gentle, yet hungry kiss. Before he could comprehend what he was doing, she had taken control and led them over to the couch.

Her kisses were hungry, and almost desperate. Not once did her tears cease, they only seemed to become more fluent with each caresses they exchanged. Until finally she pushed him off her.

"This isn't what you need now, Lucky. You are drunk and hurting because of Liz." She smiled that sad smile that has taken almost permanent residence on her pink lips.

Momentarily, he considers confessing everything to her. Telling her how he had never stopped loving her, and that he hadn't realized until too late she was the one he wanted. His throat closes up, and he already knows what is going to happen, before the tears begin to fall.

Her small hands move to his face, tenderly wiping away the signs of his weakness, and he wonders if his pathetic emotions have made her realize how helpless he really is.

But, she doesn't seem to pity him in the slightest. Instead she smiles at him, and for some reason her expression appears to be helpless. Silently, she retrieves extra blankets and pillows from the hall closet, and places them on the couch.

He stares down at them, wondering how he is going to survive sleeping with her in the other room, but knowing she wasn't his to touch anymore. Unaware of his conflicting thoughts, her hand encases his own and she leads him over to couch.

He looks down at her, his tears continuing to cascade down his face. She offers him yet another sad smile, before laying him down. Her ministrations are slow, her touch light, and her voice soothing, as she tucks him in as if he were a child.

Seemingly satisfied with her job, she begins to move away. He doesn't allow himself time to think of the consequences of his action, before his fingers wrap around her wrist. He is tired of thinking, and second guessing his every decision.

For once, he just wants to let go, and just be. Her lips separate, and he knows she is about to protest, but he speaks before she can.

"I know you're with Jason, and I respect that. And trust me I am aware that I am drunk, but I'm not asking for anything that could threaten your relationship with Jason, not intentionally. I just want you to…"

She smiles, and his words stop and he smiles in return. She steps closer to the couch, and his grip loosens on her just enough for her hand to slide down and grasp his own.

He resists the urge to pull her closer, once she settles beside him. The couch is small, and he can hear every breath as it leaves her. She snuggles against him, a content sigh brushing his neck, and he drapes one arm over her waist, letting her even breathing lull him to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Lucky stretched the length of the couch, the low hum of a sweet voice accompanied by the quiet volume of the radio a peaceful wake up call. He peered over the back of the sofa just in time to see a small span of bare thigh, when Sam sashayed into the living room.

Her brown eyes connected with his, her eyebrows raised in suspicion. He let out a low groan as a silent answer and pressed his face into the pillow. Surely, she hadn't slept dressed like that last night. She had fallen asleep before him, but why would she wake up and change?

Oh damn! Apparently, taking his silence as an insult, she apologized. "I'm sorry, but that couch is a tight fit with two people, and in the middle of the night I just got really sweaty, and sticky. It was nasty…I didn't really think it would make you uncomfortable."

She had that certain glint in her eyes, and he shook his head. Everything she just said was bullshit. She knew he wasn't uncomfortable, at least not in the way she was referring to. Why did he have to be who he was? He justified binge drinking, pill popping, but he couldn't seduce a half-naked, sexy, sweaty girl in a committed relationship. What was wrong with him?

Then, she smiled her trademark smile, the dullness of her eyes giving away her sadness. In a matter of seconds she went from sultry and flirty, to insecure and nearly crying.

He cursed under his breath. This was why he committed every sin except seduction, because women weren't something you could use and throw away. At least not for him, once he tasted them, they almost always got under his skin, and he almost always got hurt.

He stood from the sofa, and looked down at his sweat stained clothing. Apparently, it really was hot last night. He took a small step towards her, trying to gauge her reaction to his body odor.

Her eyes narrowed and she did a once over of him, before tentatively stepping forward. It was a silent plea for him to come closer, and knowing she wouldn't move any closer, he wrapped his arms loosely around her waist.

She sniffled into his shoulder, and just when he thought she was going to fall apart, she snorted in disgust.

"Spencer, you need to shower!" She pulled away, her nose scrunched up, but her eyes laughing. He smiled at her, relishing in her joyful expression, knowing it was a rare occurrence.

And as if someone somewhere sensed that Lucky might have a smile on his face, Jason Morgan sauntered into the apartment, as if he walked on air and thought he was hot shit.

Jason looked over at his half-naked girlfriend, his eyes narrowing in appreciation, before his cold blue eyes landed on him. Lucky shook his head. The past few months they had spent pretending to have mutual respect for each other. And Mobster Morgan was a hell of an actor.

"What the hell is going on?" His voice was cold, and Lucky hated that most of it was directed towards Sam, who recoiled slightly.

He restrained himself from intervening, this was between them, and as a couple they should sort it out. But when Jason grasped Sam's upper arm, Lucky saw red. Though, his grip was light, the petite raven haired woman winced.

Instantly, Lucky was at her side, and gently, but forcefully pried Sam from the bulky man's grip. Before he even had the chance to breath, Sam went from victim to attacker.

She shrugged him off, and balled her tiny hands into fists. "Not that it really concerns you…" She was interrupted by Jason's gruff voice.

"Sam, it does concern me. Anything about you concerns me."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Lucky is my friend. Just like Carly is yours, but wait what you share with her doesn't concern me, and god forbid I ever get in the way of you 'saving' her." So why should what Lucky and I do concern you? He was upset, needed a friend. I was there."

Jason nodded slowly. "I don't sleep half-naked with Carly. It's obvious you still care for Lucky, this is a completely different situation."

"Bull-shit, Jason!" She visibly began to shake, and by the shuddering of her shoulders Lucky knew she was on the verge of completely breaking down.

"Morgan, I think it's time for you to leave."

The pathetic excuse of a man seemed confused about what he had just said, as if he couldn't believe someone was ordering him around. Protectively, Lucky pulled Sam behind him, even though wasn't any logical reason to, except for his own paranoia.

Jason's eyes filmed with tears, but before they could fall they were gone. Lucky wondered if he was going insane, because tears and Jason just weren't possible. Finally, he turned and left, the door closing quietly after him.

Then, the tears came, and Sam was trembling excessively in his arms. He led her over to the couch, and lightly pulled her into his lap. Damn Jason Morgan. Damn him for continually breaking this strong, independent, gorgeous woman.

And damn Lucky for allowing it happen again.


	4. Chapter 4

Her hand reached for the doorknob, but instead it formed a fist and connected with the wooden door. The door opened, an eerily calm Jason on the other side.

Sam smiled halfheartedly, trying to find the courage to apologize, to completely put herself out there again. "Jason, I'm sorry…about this morning. Not for helping Lucky, but for making you doubt my feelings for you."

He sighed, and his blue eyes clouded over with a deep sadness. Sam nodded to herself, and then sat on the couch. He remained standing, and she watched him, his mouth opening then closing, before he groaned.

"Sam, I'm sorry." Three words, with a very simple meaning, but they left her confused.

She shook her head, stood, and placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Jason…you have no reason to be. What I said…it wasn't fair. You're right, your friendship with Carly is strictly platonic, and I understand that. I accept that. And it was wrong of me to sleep in such close quarters with Lucky."

He turned around, his eyes catching hers. Her breath caught in her throat at the unreadable emotions shining back at her.

"Sam, I'm sorry," he paused, and she knew he was searching for the right words. If only he would realize that no matter how he worded it, the way this conversation was going, she was sure it would hurt her.

"Part of what you said was right," he confirmed her fears, and she choked on any response she may have had.

"Oh," she whispered, lowering her eyes to the carpeting. She took a deep breath, and chastised herself for her weakness, and looked up against her instincts. "What part?"

The veins in his neck popped out, and his jaw clenched. "Sam…"

She smiled sadly. "It's fine…"

"No, Sam. It's not, and I'm sorry. I never should have dragged you into my mess. You are the only other woman I have loved besides…" he trailed, and she scoffed at his attempt to dull her ache. "Of all the others…you are the last one I wanted to hurt."

She bit her bottom lip in a futile effort to delay her tears. "But, in the end it doesn't matter! What I feel, does it?" She questioned, her voice strong and challenging.

"Of course it matters!" He bit back.

"Then why are we having this conversation? Why was Carly even an issue at all? When did she start being one? From day one, I accepted your compulsive need to rescue her, and I just thought it was an obligation of some sort. Because, you know, I told myself you were a good man, and you would never string along someone you claimed to love. And that when you told me you wanted to spend your life with me, I believed you. It was bullshit Jason! All bullshit! I knew it, but I ignored it. And you choose now of all times to confess your undying love for her."

"Sam, it's not like that, and you know it," he calmly disagreed, his voice tense.

"Then how is it, Jason?"

"You still love him!" The sudden loud accusation made her jump.

She stood there, silently. "If you are so sure about that, then why are we still here, arguing? I think its an excuse. An excuse to get rid of me, just like you did the others. Eventually you always get annoyed by the 'others' when Carly really needs you, and they give the ultimatum. But it always has to look like the woman's fault, like she was the one who walked out on you, because that way your true feelings for another woman are still concealed. Well, Jason you're a coward."

He just looked at her with those blue eyes full of such contradictions.

"No need to pretend, Jason or convince everyone that you hurt me so bad I chose to leave. Because, I am leaving because you hurt me, and because it is my decision."

"Sam…"

She shook her head stiffly. "No, Jason. Just shut up. You never were good with words."

She should have known, and at first she thought she had. But, she had pushed it aside, and denied the obvious. Just because he had basically left Courtney at the alter to save Carly, didn't mean anything. And neither did the point that he was the one who pushed her away.

She didn't even fully believe it when he had pushed her away, or when he had pushed Liz away. Using the same exact excuse each time. It's too dangerous. The truth of the matter was, yeah it was dangerous, and Jason was even willing to give up his own son.

But not Carly, never her. She was his main concern, it was her children, the children of other men, that he protected with his life. She was the one who brought out his ugliness, his selfishness, selflessness, hatred, and love.

* * *

><p>Tears blurring her vision, she struggled to insert the key into her apartment door, before it opened on its own. Her keys fell from her shaking hands, and she stumbled forward when the door was no longer her leverage.<p>

A pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist, a damp chest wetting the front of her black tank top. She peered up at her rescuer, and was met with a confused smile, and a compassionate blue-gray eyes.

"You're wet," she dumbly stated.

His eyebrows raised in a smart-ass gesture. She struggled against him, bothered by their awkward position. He released her, and smiled warmly down at her, before surveying himself.

"Yeah, it seems as though I am."

All of a sudden, she couldn't hold back her tears, not when he was so close, and his arms so welcoming. But, when they began to fall they weren't just for Jason, some were for the man in front of her. The man she had let go so easily. A man she never did deserve.


	5. Chapter 5

She looked up at him with those eyes, their warm amber color dulled by a troubled past she held onto. Despite every warning that ran through his mind, his mind screaming at him to not to. That she would always love Jason, and that he would never be anything but second choice.

His lips skimmed hers in a feather light touch, it was so brief their lips didn't even lock. When he pulled back, her eyes were wide and for a second he feared she would run. But, then the brown became richer and brighter, before she closed the space between them, this time she was the one who insinuated the kiss.

Within seconds the kiss intensified and her small hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and her tongue was evading his mouth with suggestive strokes. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt his body respond to the sensual sound.

She gave a small jump, and instinctively his arms caught her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist. His back hit the couch, when he fell back onto it. The combination of the friction of her cotton tank top, and the plush cushions caused his torso to tingle.

She pulled back, her eyes looking into his, and he had the sudden urge to clench his shut and never open them again. She seemed to be able to read him like an open book, and that intimidated him. She tucked a stray hair behind her ear with one hand, the other supporting some of her weight.

She bit her bottom lip, in a gesture he knew all too well. No matter how enticing it may look, it meant that she was nervous or upset, perhaps both. Gently, he lifted her off of him, and placed her beside him.

She looked over at him, and smiled that same sad smile that haunted his dreams. "I'm sorry," she murmured. Her face took on a thoughtful expression before she added "thanks."

"For what?"

Tears gathered in her eyes. "For stopping."

He nodded mutely, not sure how to respond to that. Instead, he reached for her, and she complied and moved into his arms.

"I don't want us to jump into this with open wounds, like we did last time. That is if that is what you want…for us to be together again?" He stated.

She sniffled into his neck, but he could feel her smile against his skin.

"Is that what you want? Really want? Because I know you Lucky, and you have this…nature to rescue every ailing woman. I can't be just another damsel in distress, and be abandoned when you find someone else in need of saving." A single tear fell from her eyes, and he cursed himself.

"Well, McCall isn't it obvious by now that I'm just not hero material."

She laughed against his chest. "Lucky, you are defiantly hero material, and don't let any woman convince you, you're not. You are a sweet man, and one the best people I have ever met. I know that last night I guess I saved you, but I had selfish intentions."

"Sam…" He didn't like the sudden turn in conversation. He hated it when she doubted or insulted herself in the slightest way.

She ignored him. "I needed someone. I needed to know I was still…I don't know. I just needed someone. No, not just anyone. Lucky, I needed you."

"Sam, you are still…everything and anything you think you're not."

He felt her frown against his shoulder. "Yeah…"

"I really wish you would stop insulting yourself. Sam, you are a beautiful person…inside and out."

She laughed lightly at that.

"Seriously, Sam…any man would be lucky to have you."

She extracted herself from him. "Any pun intended?"

He smiled, then chuckled. "Only if you want there to be."

She cocked her head to the side, and pretended to consider it. "Maybe, if you're lucky." She laughed and the sound reverberated all the way to his heart.

He pulled her towards him in a joking matter, and she let out a squeal. Their faces were inches apart, but their smiles remained.

"So, friends?" He asked.

She nodded, smiled enthusiastically, before throwing herself into his arms. "Yeah, friends."

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and breathed in her scent. He felt blessed to be the one experiencing her rare giddiness. The last time he had seen her truly happy was in Mexico. He still remembered when she had jumped up and down, and let out a small shriek when they escaped from jail. He chuckled at the memory.

He felt the warmth of her lips on his bare shoulder, and he smiled. Even though it could be, he didn't consider it a sexual gesture. It was a silent promise of never leaving, and he felt his own giddiness coming on. She made him feel like a teenage boy again. And for now that was fine, but he hoped that one day she would allow him to claim her in a more mature and lasting way.

_**The End**_


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